Manning came into her thoughts again, an unexpected, tall, dark, self-contained presence at the Fadden. Her two sticks were bare and brown, her snugged canvas drab, her brasses dull, her anchor mottled with rust. CHAPTER IV The tourists returned to the Sha-mien at four o'clock. “One has to live and learn,” she remarked, with a passable imitation of her father’s manner.
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